New Taxonomy
by SoraGirl
Summary: Speak. David x Melinda. "David Petrakis had always been David Petrakis My Lab Partner so if David Petrakis wasn’t my Lab Partner and not really my Ex-Lab Partner, what exactly was he?"


**Disclaimer:** I don't own speak or the characters.

**AN: **Written because I fell a little bit in love with David Petrakis after reading _Speak_ and wanted to see his relationship with Melinda developed more :) Hope you enjoy!

**New Taxonomy**

David Petrakis used to be my lab partner.

It doesn't sound right to call him David Petrakis My Ex-Lab Partner. After all, it's not like we had consciously _decided_ not to be lab partners anymore…we just _weren't_. The school year had ended, and next year he'd be in AP Dual Enrollment Advance Science for Future Geniuses or something while I'd be stuck _re_taking Biology.

At first, this had created sort of a problem. David Petrakis had always been David Petrakis My Lab Partner so if David Petrakis wasn't my Lab Partner and not really my Ex-Lab Partner, what exactly was he? David Petrakis My Acquaintance? David Petrakis My Close Friend? David Petrakis My Boytoy?

Thankfully, that problem didn't linger long. As the weeks of summer went on and I got a visit from every person who had totally ignored or humiliated me my first year of high school, David Petrakis (The One Person Who Hadn't) never showed (nor did he even grace me with that maybe-phone call he'd promised at the end of the year). I thought for sure that David Petrakis My Lab Partner would be known forever more as David Petrakis The Kid I Thought I Might Be In To Freshman Year But It Never Really Went Anywhere.

That is, until one nothing day in the middle of the summer. I had decided to try out for the basketball team next year, and Nicole and I had been practicing outside on the hoop my dad put up over the garage. Nicole freezing dead in her tracks was the first thing I noticed.

Okay, so it was really more me falling straight on my butt _because_ Nicole had stopped dead in her tracks that I noticed, but you get the point. I glared up at her. "Hey—" I started, but her eyes were directed behind me.

"Uh," she said her eyes darting between me and whatever was behind me. I could almost hear the gears in her mind clinking as she struggled with whatever decision she was making. "Sorry about that Mel, but I just realized I've got uh…practice. Sports practice. So I've got to run." Then, so tiny and brief I might have missed it if I hadn't been paying attention, she locked her eyes with mine and mouthed "Call me!" with a small grin.

I sat, still on my butt, on the pavement wondering if my friend might be going insane. I had barely enough time to wonder what had gotten into her before I found out first hand.

"H-Hey," David Petrakis the Once Again Label-less Boy Standing In Front of Me spit out nervously. He walked a bit closer and hesitated before extending out a hand to me to help me up. 

I took it, blushing a little from 1) the sudden realization that David had just seen me fall down like an idiot 2) the realization that I was still sitting, apparently brain-dead, on the ground and 3)…the feeling of his hand on mine.

I somehow managed to make it to my feet. I was up, but David kept his eyes on the ground. I had never seen the poor boy struggle so much.

The silence had to have gone on for at least two minutes. I had no idea what was going through his mind, but I was sort of glad for the pause. A few minutes ago, I was only worried about Nicole not schooling me too horribly in basketball. Now my mind was racing. It was clear why Nicole had left, at least. I had confided in her earlier in the summer about my maybe-crush on David (which, inconveniently enough, seemed to grow every day he didn't call). When I never heard from him, she begged me to call him because "one of you has to make the first move!" I guess she thought that's what he was here to do.

But was he? I had no idea. Up until now, I had written David Petrakis off. I fidgeted uncomfortably, which seemed to finally break him out of whatever mental free-for-all was going on in his head. He looked me in the eye…sort of the way your dog does when he's chewed up your best shoes.

"If I had known," he said (finally). He looked back toward the ground, his expression suddenly angry. "I—I would have never—I would have…"

The rape. It was easy to tell that was what he was talking about. That was what _everyone_ was talking about, _still_. It was easier now…to think about it. Other girls had spoken out after I did; Andy had gone to juvi; I'd come to terms with everything (as well as I _could_ come to terms with it). But I still hated it, still hated that instead of being just "the girl that called the cops at the party" I was now just "the girl that got raped," which sometimes left me feeling equally as isolated. I wanted to be done with it.

"Look, it's over," I said, sounding more irritated than I had intended to. "I mean, there's no way you could have known anyway. It was my own fault for not saying anything."

"Melinda _nothing_ about this was your fault," David replied forcefully serious. I appreciated it, but the line was getting a little old. "I should have realized—with the project. And then I told you should have spoken up—god, you _have_ to know if I had had any idea….I'm supposed to be _smart_, and I can't even tell when the girl I li—my friend—needs help! No, instead of being there for you and trying to figure out what's wrong I was wasting my time worrying I couldn't _flirt_ correctly." Caught up in his anger at himself, he threw his hands in the air above his head with a slight flourish. My eyes widened, and he blushed, returning his hands to his sides. He stopped and looked into my eyes again. "My point is: I'm an idiot, Mel, and I just wanted to apologize."

"First of all, there's nothing to apologize for. In fact, you were one of the _only_ people that made it possible for me to get through last year alive." I stopped and smiled at him, a grateful smile that I'd been wanting to give to him for a long time. When I noticed his cheeks turn a bit pinker, 

I grinned even wider. I think that was probably what gave me the courage to continue. "Secondly…you were trying to flirt with me?"

David gulped hard, his Adam's apple bouncing up and down again. I love it when he does that. His face was bright red. He forced out an awkward laugh. "Clearly not very well."

"I must not have been very good at it either if it took you half the summer to stop by," I said and then regretted it. Sometimes I come off harsher than I mean to.

"That wasn't it at all!" he assured quickly. "I wanted to. I was mad—at myself!..not you, and I didn't know how to explain…I didn't have any idea what I could possibly say."

Speechlessness was one feeling I could definitely relate to. David noticed the basketball (which had rolled forgotten into the grass after I had fallen), picked it up, shot, and missed. A diversion tactic (future lawyer after all), I thought, but also proof he should definitely stick with academics.

"Your form is completely off," I told him, picking up the basketball and walking back over to him. I tossed it to him.

"Like this." In the air, I demonstrated the proper form. David tried to replicate it on the basketball, with little success.

I moved his hands on the basketball into the proper place and felt that tingly breathless rush again. I hated it. I didn't _want_ to like him. I didn't _want_ to like touch because I hated it, too. I was terrified of it.

"Try now," I murmured, happy to break our contact and my guilty confusion. David shot and hit it.

"Hah!" he exclaimed, grinning as if he had just won the lottery. I feared for a second that in all his glee, he might try to hug me. Before he could a tiny beeping distracted him. He dug a cellphone out of his pocket.

"My Dad. I promised I'd help him at the hospital later. He must have gotten out early," he explained, silencing the phone and putting it back in his pocket. "I guess I should go then."

He paused for a second, as if giving me an opportunity to ask him to stay. But how? I was silent again.

David turned to leave and my heart sunk. Why hadn't I said anything? Hadn't I learned to speak up?

I was so busy silently cursing myself that I almost didn't notice David turn back around. I'd forgotten he could be pretty brave when he wanted to be.

"Melinda…do you maybe want to go out to eat sometime…or something?" David asked, still nervous but much more determined.

I spoke before suspicious, paranoid Melinda could convince me out of it. "Sure!" I said, clearly too quickly. I coughed and tried again. "I mean, yeah, you kind of owe me for teaching you to shoot."

David smiled widely. "I'll call you."

This time—he really did.

David and I spent most of the rest of that summer together. He had a ridiculously busy schedule, volunteering at hospitals, law firms, and science labs so he could "get a taste of everything," but he somehow still managed to make time for me. At first we did the usual: movies, meals, bowling…but pretty soon it was art exhibits and zoology courses at the zoo. David's refusal to be just an ordinary teenager kept things interesting.

It also kept things safe. The first few weeks, every date had brought with it a constant state of terror. What if he tried something? What if he got tired of having to be so delicate with me? But he never once made me feel uncomfortable. He asked for permission every time he so much as held my hand. He was sweet and gentle and patient. So much so that even after we had been dating for two months, _I_ still had to initiate our first kiss.

It happened one evening at my house. I was lying half asleep against David's chest as we watched TV. We were watching something on the history channel, and he, being the huge (but adorable) nerd that he is, was completely enthralled. "Wow!" he exclaimed about something the monotone narrator of the program had just said. I looked up at him and rolled my eyes. He responded with his usual I'm-sorry-for-being-such-a-dork sheepish grin. Our eyes stayed locked for a moment. I wanted so badly for him to kiss me then, but all the telepathic messages I sent him seemed to be in vain. He broke the gaze with a soft smile and turned his attention back towards the TV.

I was irritated, though I knew I shouldn't be. I had been outrageously lucky to find a guy that gave me all the time and patience I needed. David had been pretty close to perfect…but that just made me want him to kiss me even more! Yet, I knew that he never would—in fact, that was part of the reason I felt so safe with him. It was clear. If I wanted David Petrakis to kiss me, I was going to have to kiss him first.

So I did.

While he was busy watching about how somebody discovered some medical something, I shifted myself up, took his face in my hands and kissed him. _Finally_David Petrakis kissed me back, somehow able to mix passion and caution. After a few moments, I drew back for breath, our faces still close. "Was that..okay?" David asked immediately, concerned. "Because you know you can tell me if I ever—" I smiled and kissed him again.

On the first day of school that year, we walked in holding hands. I don't know if David really didn't notice the stares and whispers or just pretended not to. They were short, gossip whispers, and I was ecstatic to have them. Suddenly, I was no longer the untouchable stuff of legends, "the girl who got raped." I was just another high school tween for the rumor mill to feed on. A "Did you hear about David Petrakis and that Melinda girl?" that faded away with time.

Of course, by senior year we had sort of become legend again. Apparently it's some kind of big deal to stay a couple for three years. Okay, it hadn't been the _easiest_ thing for David and me. We had had our share of problems, but neither of us could really see any other way. What was the alternative? Not being together? It seemed impossible.

Which is what has made this year so hard. College is looming on the horizon, and David and I are definitely headed down different paths. He's decided on med school, and I'm on my way to art school. We applied to some places in the same area...but there's just no telling. We've been forced to accept the possibility that we may not be together forever…or even for the next four years.

I'd like to believe that had nothing to do with prom night, but I know it did. I loved David, and I wanted to be able to show him. It wasn't fair to let Andy take that away from me too.

I'll never forget how David's hands, future surgeons hands which I had _seen_ work with steady precision even in operating rooms, shook almost uncontrollably as he fumbled at the strings on the back of my dress, and how a second didn't go by that he wasn't asking me if I was okay.

I think it's safe to say David Petrakis is definitely not just my lab partner anymore.

But once again, I'm having trouble finding a fitting label. I look over at David, who is currently sitting on my floor, back to my bed. I lay across it. Graduation is in less than a month, and he's working on his valedictorian speech. I told him I was working on my physics lab to keep him happy. His face looks so worried as he reads over what he's written I can't help but lean over the edge of the bed and kiss him lightly.

He smiles at me. Somehow my heart still flutters.

I don't know what David Petrakis will be. I don't know if he'll be David Petrakis My Husband, David Petrakis My High School Sweetheart I Lost Touch With, David Petrakis The Boyfriend Who Broke Up With Me to Study Cadavers.

But I know who David Petrakis is right now, right at this moment. Right now: David Petrakis is The Boy I Love.

I think, after everything, that's more than enough.

_Fin_.


End file.
